Going to the baker’s

Usually our village is pretty quiet. When Kica and I go for our walks we rarely see more than a couple of people.

However, Sunday morning is different. Everyone goes to the baker’s which is open until 1p.m. As a rule I’m stuck at home waiting for the carer to wash Whale but as he’s still in hospital I was free to go out when CC phoned to ask if I’d get some bread for her and Jay who are on the way back from England.

Kica was excited to see her lead and off we went. We were hardly out of the door before we bumped into Francine who was coming to give me details of a chap who sells lamb at the monthly market in Renwez. She told me that Mr. N had committed suicide on Wednesday and his funeral would be held next week.

Gosh! That’s the second suicide recently. A couple of weeks ago the garage owner’s wife hanged herself after years of deep depression. Francine reckons there’s ‘something in the air’ and the saying ‘never a second without a third’ sprang to mind.

When we turned the corner Kica decided to jump up the bank beside the stadium. It’s higher the other side of the wall so I hung onto her lead and hoped she’d get down at the end of the bank. She did but got her lead caught round the corner of the wall. Fortunately for me, our neighbour from opposite was coming back and he climbed up the bank to free the lead. He’s a really nice man but not very talkative. He didn’t even say much when my car rolled down our drive into his car. He and his wife helped me to fill in the insurance form and I stayed in their house until Bear had cooled down a bit!

A man I don’t know came over to stroke Kica and ask how old she was. She loves attention nowadays and lapped it up.

A little further we met Sabine who had just come back from shopping at the supermarket. KIca tried to get into the boot of her car. She loves travelling in a car – even if it means seeing the vet. Sabine speaks excellent English so we chatted about the course at the library.

We passed one or two other people with just a ‘Bonjour’ before arriving at the bakery. There is a convenient post for me to attach Kica’s lead and she usually waits patiently.

There wasn’t a queue so we were soon on the way back.

A van stopped and the driver called out. It was Pascal, whom I hadn’t seen for some time. We caught up with each other’s news – mostly medical – and went our separate ways.

The last chat was with the nurse, who had been to redo Bear’s bandage. She had stopped outside her parents’ house and told me that Bear had seemed ‘half-dead’ when she arrived but was playing the fool by the time she left.

“He’s a good actor’ she said.

The trouble is he may be ignored one of these days if he’s genuinely ill after crying wolf so often.

So, our walk which normally takes 40 minutes took nearly an hour and a half this morning. It made a pleasant change especially as it will be back to the normal routine after Wednesday when Whales comes back from the hospital and I won’t be free to go out on Sunday mornings for some time.

2 Responses to “Going to the baker’s”

A bit different to here. If I go out for a walk and pass local people nobody stops to chat or even to pass the time of day! Everybody keeps themselves to themselves. Still, that’s the typical British attitude. C’est la vie. . . . . . !